


Damaged, beautiful

by Tovarich



Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [20]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Body Worship, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Good Omens Celebration 2020, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Female Clothed Male, Non-Penetrative Sex, Self-Worth Issues, Smut, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tovarich/pseuds/Tovarich
Summary: She gave herself to Aziraphale, offered herself to him, for him to do as he pleased. And Aziraphale used the power he was granted to show her how cherished she was. It was there, in the scrape of teeth on her thighs, in the gentle caress of a hand in her hair, in red trails left by short fingernails on her sides. Every bruise, every bitemarks on her clear skin was like an indelible testament of Aziraphale's love. Silent proof of his unending affection tattooed on her body. She could feel it to her bones, spreading warmth and comfort through her veins.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727137
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	Damaged, beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for day 20 of the Good Omens Celebration was poetry.   
> I didn't really have an idea of what to write for this one, and then my brain told me "why don't we try writing smut?" And this happened. It's my first smut, so I hope it's alright.

Aziraphale was starting to get worried; he hadn't seen Crowley in days, and the demon hadn't answered his calls either. There was a tight knot of apprehension in his stomach, thoughts running wild in his head. He had intended on giving Crowley space if that was what she needed, but he couldn't wait anymore to make sure his love was alright. That's how he found himself in front of Crowley's front door, waiting for a sign telling him he could come in. But it never came, he knocked, rang the doorbell, waited some more. Still nothing. An uncomfortable sensation settled in his chest. Something was wrong, Crowley wouldn't normally refuse Aziraphale's presence, even when she wasn't feeling well.

"Crowley, I'm coming in, dear. If you want me to leave, say it now," he shouted through the door, and when no answer came, he unlocked the door with a quick miracle.

The flat was uncharacteristically untidy: there were empty bottles and stained wine glasses on the coffee table and on the floor. A half-eaten chocolate cupcake was abandoned to dry and rot. Clothes were scattered on every available surface, creating a trail leading to the sunroom where Crowley kept most of her plants.

Aziraphale carefully followed the clothes, slowly, giving Crowley time to notice his presence and tell him if it was unwanted. "Crowley," Aziraphale called again, "are you in there? May I come in?"

Once again there was no answer, but Aziraphale distinctly heard a half-choked sob coming from the room. He entered the room only to find Crowley on the floor, with her head buried in her knees. At her feet, there was a broken pot, bits of terracotta scattered around. A small lump of soil lay on the floor, the thin roots of a sad-looking, shivering plant peeking through the earth.

"Angel," Crowley said, voice cracked, throat parched, "I'm bad, angel. Look at what I've done." She kept her head down, curtained by heavy strands of red curls. She was too scared of what she would find on Aziraphale's face if she met his eyes. Everyone else saw her for what she really was: a vile creature, dirty temptress, the downfall of humanity. She could handle humans and other angels, even demons, thinking that of her, but if the tenderness in Aziraphale's eyes disappeared when they landed on her frail figure, she would surely die. "Angel, I'm sorry, don't hate me please."

Aziraphale knelt beside her, a gentle hand on her shoulder. "My dear, how could I ever hate you?" he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on Crowley's head. "Can you look at me, please? It's alright if you don't want to, don't feel pressured."

Crowley wanted to say yes, she always wanted to say yes to Aziraphale. But something kept her from doing so now. She was too scared, even though Aziraphale had been just as kind as usual, there was still this deep fear that smothered her, choked her, made her feel so numb. What if Aziraphale changed his mind when he saw her face? What if this was all an act and Aziraphale was just waiting for Crowley to lower her walls? All those thoughts were ridiculous, she told herself, but she had been hurt too many times. always by people she thought she could trust. A voice in her head tried telling her that Aziraphale was different, that he would never hurt her, not willingly at least. It was Aziraphale, she had nothing to fear. But Aziraphale had hurt her in the past, hadn't he? He regretted it, Crowley knew he did, but he still had. He could still do it again.

Crowley started shaking, she was torn between two instincts, unable to choose what to do. She was confused and vulnerable and she absolutely hated it.

"Shhh. It's alright dear, you don't have to do anything." Aziraphale soothed her, running his hand in her hair. "Let's take care of this poor dear first, shall we?" He snapped his fingers and the plant was back in her pot. It was still a bit crooked, not as perfect as it used to be, but just as beautiful. It would fit perfectly in his bookshop, by the widow where the soft rays of the sun could caress its green leaves. "There, it's alright, my love," Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley couldn't resist raising her head anymore, coaxed by Aziraphale's gentle voice and soft gestures. Tear tracks slightly darkened by her eyeliner stained her face, her round sunglasses only partially covering her eyes. Aziraphale looked at her with an expression of infinite patience, offering reassurance with his whole being.

"Let me take care of you now, my beautiful darling, will you?"

Crowley was unable, or unwilling, to fight anymore. "Please," she whispered, her voice weak, barely audible over the sound of her heart beating in her ears. She fell into his open arms, unresisting, like a ragdoll. She trusted him to be kind to her, to be gentle and take care of her. She was his, completely.

Aziraphale carried her to her bedroom, leaving her gently on the soft mattress, among crumpled silk. She was wearing a tight black dress with lace sleeves, hugging her body in an enticing way. Aziraphale encircled her thin waist with his strong arms, humming a soothing tune against her ear. Crowley moved in his arms so she could kiss him. It started as an innocent touch of lips against lips but she quickly deepened it, pressing her body tightly against his, undulating slightly.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Aziraphale asked, taking her sunglasses off and folding them on the bedside table.

Crowley nodded. "Want you, need you, angel. Need to know you want me too."

"Of course, I want you, my love." He gently lifted the dress over her head, exposing her body, ready to be lavished with love. Her copper hair and white skin looked irresistible on the black sheets. Waves of tenderness radiated from his body, flooding the room. It was intoxicating, making Crowley's head spin in the most delicious way.

Aziraphale kissed a trail from her kiss to her jaw, going down the column of her throat. He sucked on the sensitive skin behind her ear. His hands ran up and down her sides as his mouth covered every centimetre of her with gentle kisses and barely-there scrapes of his teeth. He lapped at the hollow of her throat, eliciting a breathy sigh from her. With every passing seconds he could feel some tension leave her body.

"Look how responsive you are, my perfect darling. So perfect, my love, allowing me to show you how much I love you," Aziraphale breathed against her skin.

Crowley could feel the words through her entire body, travelling in quick waves through her bones, making her shiver and ache for more. And she wanted more, greedy thing she was. Always wanting more than she deserved. And Aziraphale always indulged her, granting her everything she asked for. But she was scared that one day, she would ask for too much, for more than Aziraphale was willing to give. And so, she rarely voiced her desires, keeping them locked in her heart. But Aziraphale always knew what she wanted, what she needed.

Aziraphale took one of her nipples in his mouth while he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. He sucked and bit at the pink nub before raising his head to meet Crowley's eyes. And he didn't like what he saw there.

"No more self-deprecating thoughts, darling," he said, squeezing one of Crowley's small breasts in his hand. "Let me help you replace them with good ones, please." His mouth went back to her breasts, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her chest. "You're beautiful, body and soul. I can't get enough of you, Crowley."

"Angel," Crowley moaned as Aziraphale stroked one of her sensitive nipples with his thumb. He always found the right words, the right caress to make her lose her mind, to get her out of the vicious cycle of self-hate she was so used to.

He went back to leaving kisses all over her skin. He knew every sensitive parts of her body, knew where to kiss, where to bite, where to run his hands or his nails to make her moan and shiver under him. The sensation of Aziraphale's clothes of her naked body made warmth spread in Crowley's lower belly. It felt incredibly good to give Aziraphale complete control over herself, to surrender to his gentle ministration. She let him heal her wounds with every touch of his fingers on her heated skin. With every word, she allowed her to believe, at least for a moment, that she was worth something. She gave herself to Aziraphale, offered herself to him, for him to do as he pleased. And Aziraphale used the power he was granted to show her how cherished she was. It was there, in the scrape of teeth on her thighs, in the gentle caress of a hand in her hair, in red trails left by short fingernails on her sides. Every bruise, every bitemarks on her clear skin was like an indelible testament of Aziraphale's love. Silent proof of his unending affection tattooed on her body. She could feel it to her bones, spreading warmth and comfort through her veins.

He kissed down her abdomen, firmly holding her hips. She knew there would be finger-shaped bruises there the next morning and it made her throw her head back in a breathy moan. He bit and sucked on the skin just above the waistband of her black panties, slowly, running his mouth on the sensitive skin. She was deliciously out of breath, mouth dry and thoughts hazy. She was drunk on the delectable sensations Aziraphale brought to her. And then, his mouth went lower still, kissing her through the thin fabric, inhaling her musky scent. His hands slowly, gently lowered her panties and when it was off, his mouth went back up licking and biting her leg from her knee, up the inner side of her thigh, until it reached her already dripping sex.

"Oh, angel, please! Please, I need you!" Crowley all but shouted. Her face grew warm with shame and she tried to cover her face.

But Aziraphale didn't let her; he gently pried his hands away, smiling reassuringly at her. "Don't hide, my dear. You're beautiful like that. I love hearing you, seeing you. I love knowing you're having a good time." He kissed her sternum before diving back down between her legs.

He gripped her quivering thighs, keeping them firmly apart, imprinting the mark of his fingertips on her flawless skin. His tongue running over her folds, lapping at her juices as if it were the most precious nectar. And as he drank her, he made those sinful noises he let out when he ate something he loved. Crowley was so close already, her hands tightened in the silken sheets, her back arched off the bed. And Aziraphale's mouth on her, skilful, licking and nipping at her clit. It was too much, too much, she couldn't take anymore. The tight knot in her abdomen snapped and she came with a loud moan of Aziraphale's name.

But she was a greedy thing and one orgasm wasn't enough. "Angel, angel, please don't stop. Please, please, need more. More, please," she moaned, writhing under him, every centimetre of her skin so delightfully heated and sensitive. 

Aziraphale kept licking and sucking at her until he was satisfied. He crawled back up her body, the drag of his clothes against Crowley's skin making her whimper. He kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips and on his tongue. His hand travelled down her body once again, slowly, enjoying the way her muscles quivered under his palm. When he reached her sex, two fingers drew circles on her swollen clit in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Still no penetration?" He asked, kissing Crowley gently on her sweaty forehead.

She shook her head, biting her reddened lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He smiled at her, stroking her cheek, wiping a stray tear. "There's nothing to be sorry for, my dear. You are entitled to your boundaries and I'll always respect them. You don't ever have to apologise for not wanting something, do you hear me, Crowley?"

Crowley nodded but there was a deep frown on her face. "But still, I should be able to satisfy you…"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, gently but firmly, "do I look like I'm not satisfied? Listen to me, my dear. I love making love to you, I love everything we do together, and I don't need to be inside you. Making love to you is the closest thing I've ever felt to being embraced by Her love, that's how much I enjoy it. I love you, I love making you feel good, I love hearing the sounds you make and knowing I'm the one who gives you pleasure. I love looking at your eyes and seeing trust and love in them. I love you, and nothing will ever change that."

The fingers on her clit were still rubbing her with the same frustratingly slow rhythm, and Aziraphale's words made her feel so loved. She could feel him, hard against her hip. When her hand cupped him, though, he just moaned and took Crowley's hand in hers, away from his aching cock.

"This is about you, dear. Let me take care of you." He kissed her, increasing the rhythm of his fingers on her clit, making her throw her head back against the pillow.

But Crowley was a stubborn demon and while she enjoyed having Aziraphale's undivided attention, she wanted to take care of him too. "Please, angel, let me-"

"hush, dear. Let me worship you," he interrupted with a playful kiss on her nose.

"That's blasphemy!"

"Yes, it is. God is our Mother and I'll always love Her. But you're the one I chose to give my devotion to."

With that, he turned Crowley so that her back was pressed against his front and increased the pressure of his hand on her sex, drawing quick circles on her clit and stroking her folds. She was close, he could tell, he knew the signs. Her moans became louder and higher, accompanied by the quivering in her thin thighs. His over hand went to her throat when she leaned her head back against his shoulder. He didn't put any pressure, just enough for her to feel it there. He knew she loved it, she loved the feeling of being owned by him, loved surrendering, knowing he could do anything to her but that he would never do anything she wouldn't love.

It was the sight of her quivering body as she came, eyes rolled back and mouth opened in a silent moan that did it for him. He came with a muffled moan, leaving another bitemark on Crowley's shoulder. His chest was heaving with the force of his own orgasm as his arms tightened around Crowley.

"I love you, Crowley, my gorgeous demon. Love you so much," he said in her ear as he regained his breath.

"I'm broken, angel. You are the gorgeous one, not me," Crowley chuckled sadly, "You're perfect, flawless, graced by Her love. I'm damaged, angel."

"You're damaged my dear, damaged and all the more beautiful for it. Every bruise, every scar on your skin and on your soul, they took part in making you the gorgeous being you are today."

He ran his hands in soothing patterns over her skin, leaving gentle kisses on every bruise and every angry red mark he had left on her, writing poetry with his lips on the blank canvas of her body. Imprinting words of love and devotion on her skin with every touch, every breath. Aziraphale knew it would take time to make Crowley believe him. Maybe he would never succeed, maybe it was impossible. But no matter what, he would always be there to sooth the ache in her soul, to prove her she was loved, to show her the beauty in herself that she didn't see. He would whisper in her ears and run loving fingers on her skin. He would show her, for however long he was granted the permission to.


End file.
